


Of Trinkets and Twists

by keyflight790



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Art, BDSM, Bisexuality, But just for a moment, Confusion, Digital Art, Dom/sub, Epistolary, Fanart, Fluff and Smut, Heavy BDSM, Kink Negotiation, Kissing, Leather, Leather Kink, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Sex Toys, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-08-20 06:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16550765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790/pseuds/keyflight790
Summary: Draco had no idea where the mysterious packages were coming from, but he could take a guess.  One thing he's sure of is theymost definitelyaren't from Harry Potter.Writcraft you are an amazing writer and I was so excited to work in your prompts. I really hope you like this!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Writcraft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/gifts).



Draco rubbed his eyes, glancing furiously at the calendar, willing the M to turn into an F.  An Auror raid in Seville had caused him to ramp up production in certain potions, and he had spent the entire weekend grinding flobberworms into paste to meet the demand.  

The morning meeting had been long; Albert Cockle had derailed it once again, to discuss the effects of his new homeopathic elixir. It had been a relief when the Junior Minister of the Department Of Specialized Elixirs shut down the obnoxious prat with a simple, "Well, meeting adjourned," before turning quickly in her robes and walking swiftly out the door.

Draco was in charge of finding potions and cures for some of the continent’s most dramatic illnesses.  In fact, it was Draco and his team that first discovered the healing powers of Acromantula tears on older patients with Dragon Pox.  The effects were immediate; patients lost the green and purple rash between their toes, and the sparks diminished after just a few days of treatment.  The discovery was especially personal to Draco; his grandfather, Abraxas, had suffered horribly with the disease.  The level of contagion forced his entire family to simply wait in the lobby of St. Mungos while his strong and clever grandfather died alone.  Draco couldn't even say goodbye. It was the only time he remembered seeing his father cry.

Now Cockle couldn't stop bragging about how he would save the inflicted in less time with fewer tears.  Draco pinched his nose, trying to stave off another headache.

He dashed back to his office, clenching his fists as he mentally reviewed the current elixirs he had under observation.  Distractedly, he hung up his robes, recounting the rounds of trial his current Spattergroit potion was undergoing.

He could barely function when the troupe of Aurors turned up to pick up the vials needed for their next mission.  Draco knew his features were swollen from lack of sleep, and no glamour spell was able to disguise the black circles beneath each eye.

“Eight vials of Polyjuice, two of Pepper-Up, Skele-Gro, six of Verita,” Terry counted off, checking the crumpled list in his hand.  

“Think there’s enough Baneberry?” Michael asked.  

“It’s enough to put down at least six dark wizards.  We’re only chasing one.” Susan rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes," Draco hurried the Auror's along.  "Enjoy beautiful Seville, while the rest of us are stuck in the blistering cold."

"We're not going to the beach, you know," a familiar voice coughed from the back.  "This is a very important mission."

Draco felt a flush grow along his neck and his cock twitched.  The things that voice did to him were just mortifying.

"Sure it is, Potter," Draco growled.  “Everything you do is oh so very important.”

He was already berating himself for allowing Harry to affect him this way, even after all of these years.  He tampered the anger with a quick cough, hoping to hide the gravel in his voice.

Harry shifted to the front of the group, pausing to stare at Draco.

"Malfoy?" he questioned, tilting his head to the side.  "You ok? You don't look so good."

Draco pulled in a breath.  It had been a while since Harry’s face was so close to his own, outside of his dreams at least.  It looked like Potter had acquired a new scar, a tiny mark on his right cheek just below his nose. It looked fresh, still pink around the edges.  He was wondering how other parts of Potter might look with a little pink, when he heard the uptick of a tiny cough.

 _Fuck_.  "I'm fine, Potter, although I’d be better if my office was clear of you lot so I could get back to my work," he scoffed, forcing his eyes to stay alert.  "Have fun on your little adventure, and do try to think of the little people that help behind the scenes," he added spitefully.

"Will do," Harry stared at him once more before grabbing the box of potions and heading toward the door.

“Thanks so much for your help, Draco,” Terry gave him a wink as he followed Potter.

Draco watched them go, his face still tinged from the thoughts of Potter, combined with the sultry wink from Boot.  

\--

Draco thought his Tuesday would be business as usual.  

His mind went a little blank, however, when he glanced at his desk.  A tiny figurine sat perched between paperclips and his cup of quills.

Draco watched as a tiny dark-haired dancer gathered her red skirt and began to strut carefully across the dark wood of his desk, twisting one hand gracefully in the air as the other wrapped around her back.  Her wrists rolled as she pulled her hips left and right, her red heels stomped in a quick rhythm.  The curls of her dress cascaded up and down, dragged by her continuously moving hand motions.

His eyes sparkled as the Spanish girl danced a fully choreographed Flamenco on top of his latest reports.  She finished with a deep tilt, a single rose from her hair now clutched high above her head. Draco clapped, mesmerized by the little toy's performance.

She bowed, and returned to her original location, leaning slightly against the cup as her body stilled.

Draco continued on with his day, checking the potion temperatures and heat levels, marking updates on his reports.  His eyes kept wandering back to the dancer, to her red dress and her red rose.

He was staring at the dancer again when he heard a knock on his door.

"Draco, you ready?"

He looked up from the pages and pages of neat dark scribbles that he'd been immersed in.  Draco rubbed his eyes quickly as he glanced towards the door.

"It's already five?" Draco asked Pansy.

"Close to six, actually," she folded her arms.  "We're going to be late - again," she said pointedly.

Pansy worked two floors up in the Required Ordinary Business Ensemble Staff department, designing the latest fashions for the various Ministry employees.  They tried to see each other as often as possible and had reserved Tuesday nights for their weekly meetups, starting with cocktails and dinner which usually turned into dancing their troubles away.

"Ok, but first," he motioned her to come round his desk, "look at what appeared today."

Draco couldn't resist smiling as the Senorita danced and stomped her way across his papers.  He held out a finger, and she grasped tightly to it, allowing him to twirl her until she was dizzy.  She took a bow before fixing the rose in her hair and strutted gracefully back to her new home next to his quills. 

 Art created by [@hexagonwrangler](https://hexagonwrangler.tumblr.com)

"Who gave you that?" Pansy asked.  Draco had assumed she'd be as humored with the flamenco dancer as he was, but instead, her voice sounded grave.

"I'm- I'm not sure," Draco stuttered, looking up to see the wrinkles of concern across his best mates face.   "It was just here when I came in this morning. There was a note though.” Draco rummages through his papers for the tiny folded parchment. 

> _Thinking of you._

Pansy rolled her eyes.

"You're saying someone owled you a cursed doll, and you just opened it?"

"She's not cursed, she's -"

"And instead of alerting the Eye’s," Pansy continued harshly, "you've been playing with it all day?"

"Well, not all day.  I did get more work done," Draco trailed off.

"Draco, darling," Pansy knelt down, placing a soft hand on the armrest of his chair.  "I know it's easy to forget. It's been years since the war. There are still people out there who want to-"

"Duel me?  Hurt me? See me in Azkaban?  See me dead?" Draco spat. "No, Pansy.  I haven't forgotten."

"Don’t be cruel," she bit.

Draco took in a long breath.  She was right, of course she was.  Pansy only had Draco's best interests at heart.  She had always looked out for him, ever since they were little.  They looked out for each other. The world post-war had been less than kind.

"I'll report it first thing tomorrow," he said.  She gave a sharp nod in acquiescence.

Draco gave the tiny figurine a reassuring pat on her head, casting a quick charm, just in case some evil did lurk in the toy, before walking with Pansy out the door.

\--

Wednesday morning, Draco headed straight for the Eyes.  

“She kicked me in the face,” the officer for Internal Inquiries and Inflictions reported when they handed Draco back his tiny trinket.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be looking up her skirt.  What do you think she was hiding under there, a pint-sized sword?”

Draco rubbed the pad of his thumb soothingly over the Senorita's dark curls, checking to make sure they hadn’t been too rough with her.

“Any idea who sent it?”

The officer shrugged.  “Arrived with a stack of reports from Spain.”

_Interesting._

\--

“Do you think it could have come from -”

“My mother?  She’s still in France, hasn’t been to Spain in months. Plus, why would she send it with some reports? No, Pans, it must be someone from the Ministry.”

“Right, so maybe it’s -”

“I mean, I know it’s been a while since we dated, but John’s in Portugal, it could be -”

“I don’t think so, Draco.  It’s pretty clear it’s from - “

“Oh.  The Aurors are in Spain.”

“Exactly.”

“So, that must mean-”

“Pot-”

“Potentially Terry Boot, exactly.  He did give me that wink the other day.  I’ve seen him checking out my arse once or twice.”

Pansy rolled her eyes.  “Wow, Draco, you really cracked the case.  Congrats.”

“Boot’s not unattractive, I suppose.  I should write him a letter, let him know how much I appreciate his thoughtfulness.”  

“You do that,” Pansy smirked.

He pulled a stack of cream parchment and a black quill from the top-drawer of his desk, and wrote.  

> _Terry,_
> 
> _Thank you so much for the beautiful dancer.  She is quite remarkable, and has brought me such joy over the past couple of days.  I appreciate the gesture, and as a token of my thanks, I would love to take you out to dinner.  Are you available Friday after next?_
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Draco Malfoy_
> 
> _Potions Master, MoM_

“Is your title really important?” Pansy asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes, well, when beginning a new relationship, it’s important to remind your partner what assets you bring to the table.  Since I very well cannot owl an image of my arse, a reminder of my position in the Ministry will have to do.”

“Of course,” Pansy replied dryly.  “Why don’t I take this to the owlery for you?”  

“Thank you so much,” Draco smiled, stacking his remaining parchment and returning it to their proper home in his drawer.

Pansy grabbed a quill and made some hasty scratches on the parchment, turning a _Te_ into _Ha_ before she turned and headed out towards the tower.

\--

That afternoon, Draco arrived to another parcel on his desk. 

> _Dear Draco,_
> 
> _I’m relieved you like your tiny dancer.  I wasn’t sure if you would. Especially from me.  I’d really like to have dinner with you. Thanks for asking._
> 
> _I found this little guy at a market in Madrid.  Careful, he gets a little restless unless his trainer wears him out a little.  His name is Kiwi._

Draco stared warily at the shifting package.  Smoke was huffing out of the corners, and Draco could hear the faint sounds of scratching below the ribbon.

With a curious, albeit shaky hand, Draco tugged at the edges of the bow, releasing it from its hold.  The parcel opened hastily as a tiny blur of brown charged from the wrappings, ramming itself into the edge of his filofax.  

Draco’s eyes whirred as he watched the small blob round at the flash of red near the quills.

“No!” he screamed, high-pitched, as he watched the miniature bull turn on its haunches and begin to charge towards his delicate Senorita, her hands flying up to cover her face, knocking her rose onto the base of the desk.

Before he could grab his wand to protect her, however, a tiny Matador stumbled out of the wrappings, drawing his red cape, swinging it hastily.  The bull gravitated towards the tiny hero, horns pointed at the tantalizing fabric weaving from left to right.

The bull passed through the cape several times, and Draco sighed with relief as he watched the animal calm.  The now docile bull shook his head, then lay down, licking his hooves. Draco watched as the Matador scratched between his ears, before striding over to the flamenco dancer, recovering her lost rose in his wake.

He bowed sharply, presenting the flower in one hand as his nose paralleled the floor.  She beamed, eliciting a small curtsy as she rearranged the tiny rose in her hair once again.

Draco gathered a few empty ink pots and created a makeshift pen for the petite bull.  He straightened out his papers, glancing softly at the dancer, who was now being led by the Matador into what appeared to be a waltz.  Draco smiled, dimming the lights slightly to offer them a romantic glow as he packed up the rest of his things and headed home for the evening.

\--

He woke up Thursday morning, eyes puffy and bloodshot after a night of tossing and turning. His mind had continued to wander to the Matador, to the dancer, to a man with brown hair.

He didn’t remember interacting with Terry at Hogwarts.  Draco rarely interacted with Ravenclaws, but then again, he hadn’t really interacted with many people outside of Slytherin.  Except for Potter’s brood.

Still, he had worked with Terry for almost three years, coordinating the Auror’s potions refills, keeping everything in stock.  He had even created a new concoction specifically for one of their raids, when he and Potter had to chase after a Billiwig harvester in Austria.  They had flirted a little, Draco smirking that Terry would be able to go _faster, so much faster_  , and Terry jokingly referring to the annoying little bug’s _triple X_ rating.

He was still pondering their past and their potential future when Potter knocked on the door.

“Hi Draco,” Harry said, a slight rose tint on his cheekbones.

“Since when do you call me Draco, Potter?”

Harry’s skin seemed to redden further as he entered the office.  “Right. I thought, well...nevermind. Oh, she looks great there!” He motioned towards Draco’s desk.

“What?  Oh, yes, isn’t she beautiful?  A very kind person owled her to me.  Would you like to see her twirl?”

“I, erm, yes, very much.”

Draco smiled softly as he lifted a finger towards his little dancer’s direction.  She handed her tiny rose to the Matador and stomped up to Draco’s hand, shaking her hips as she began her dance.  When she was ready for the big finale, she grabbed hold of the tip of Draco’s finger, spinning several times before he lowered her into a dip.  

“That was wonderful!” Harry clapped, beaming.  “What do you think about dancing next Friday?”

Draco furrowed his brows.  “I’m keen to dance any day of the week, Potter, but I happen to have plans next Friday.”

Harry returned the confused stare.  “I know.”

“Well if you know, then why are you asking me?”

“I...what?”

“Nevermind.  See yourself out, will you?  Kiwi tends to get a little feisty if he’s not taken on his afternoon walk.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.  “Okay. Well, see you around Dra- I mean, Malfoy.”

He turned toward the door, head hung low, and almost ran into Pansy.

“Potter,” she said, swerving to the right to avoid crashing into him.

“Parkinson,” he murmured in acknowledgment as he escaped to the hallway.

“What was that about?” Pansy asked, surveying Draco’s desk with interest.  “And is that…”

“A tiny Matador and his bull?  Why of course, Pansy. Although it does make me wonder who Terry would prefer to wear the collar.”

Pansy’s eyes widened as she stifled a laugh.  “Terry? You’re still on that it’s him?”

“Who else would it be?  Both gifts came from Spain, delivered with the other forms from the Aurors.  It certainly couldn’t be Bones. She’s fully aware of my sexuality since she walked in on John and I after that Ministry party.  And Corner’s practically engaged to Neville, I doubt he would do anything to fuck that up. So that just leaves - “

“Potter.”

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes, a special talent of his to do both at once.  “Potter isn’t gay, Pansy. He and Ginny have been an item since well before eighth year. And even if he was, he wouldn’t be going after me.”

“Okay, darling, whatever you have to tell yourself.”  Pansy smirked, watching the Matador scratch tenderly behind the bull’s ears.  “But I think we both know Potter would look fetching in a collar.”

\--

Draco was a little surprised to see another gift so carefully wrapped on his desk Friday morning.  He pulled the twine, revealing a tiny figurine.

He recognized the Santon immediately from his Christmases at the Malfoy residence in Provence.  This little saint was an older woman, basket pressed against her hip, apron covered in flour. Draco placed her carefully on his desk and she immediately set her cane down, hobbling over to the two new lovebirds.  He watched, captivated, as the Santon produced two meat pies from her basket, handing one to the Senorita and one to the Matador.

Draco read the letter that accompanied the Santon.  

> ~~_Dra_ ~~ _Malfoy,_
> 
> _I found this wonderful woman when we apparated into France.  I thought she might remind you of home. Plus, I had a taste of one of her pies, they’re quite delicious.  The storeowner introduced her to me as Matilda, but I think she prefers to be called ‘Tilly’._
> 
> _Are we still on for next Friday?_

Draco couldn’t help but chuckle, reading the note and watching his figurines bond over pies and quill ink as he finished the remaining reports on his desk.  He wrote his response at the bottom of the same parchment.  

 

> _Thank you so much for the Santon figurine!  She is so wonderful, and is fitting in quite well with her tiny family.  I really cannot convey how much I enjoy these little gifts. We’re definitely on for next Friday.  I might just have to show you my appreciation. *wink wink*_
> 
> _\- Draco_
> 
> _Potions Master, MoM_

He sent off the letter through the interoffice mail, directly to the Aurors department, turning his attention back to the boiling temperature of his potion.  His eyes kept glancing at the door, hoping to see a little note returning to his desk.

He didn’t have to wait long before another response dropped directly over his afternoon stack of reports.  

> _So we’re back to Draco?_
> 
> _I’m relieved to know we are on for Friday.  I wasn’t sure if you were still wanting to do us, I mean, this.  Dinner? Then we can see where the night takes us? *wink*_

Draco stared at the first line for a moment before moving on.  He grabbed his quill, scrolling his response on the same piece of parchment before sending it off again. 

> _Of course I’m still on for Friday.  I’ve been dying to try out that new restaurant in Diagon, the seafood place?  I hear oysters are a great aphrodisiac._
> 
> _\- Draco_

The response was almost immediate. 

> _Oh, great.  Yes, oysters sound wonderful.  I’ll make us reservations. If all goes well, maybe we can head to my flat after?  I’ve got a large collection of...toys. I can’t believe I just admitted that over office mail._

Draco kept reading over that last line again and again.  He itched to write back, to ask all the questions that were running through his head.  He wrote just one line, sending it hastily before he lost his nerve.

> _What kind of toys?_

The response came as fast as the crack of a whip. 

> _Guess you’ll just have to find out._

\--

The heated correspondence halted after his last letter, like a cold ice bath had been poured on their conversation.  The weekend was mundane, time passing in slow hours followed by dull lunches with his mother.

When Monday came around, Draco wanted, eagerly yearned, to send a letter to his giftee as soon as he reached the office.  As he was pulling out yet another blank piece of parchment in which to begin his flirting, the body of Potter filled his doorway.

“Yes?” he questioned annoyingly.  Harry had been stopping by so often, recently, and Draco was having trouble keeping his emotions under wraps.  After all, it certainly wouldn’t help his burgeoning relationship if it was exposed he had a previous, but definitely not present, crush on the Head of the Auror Department.  

Potter smiled softly, inching his way into the room, blush prevalent on his face.

“I, erm….”

“What do you know about Terry?”

“Terry Boot?”  Harry asked, his voice taking on a high pitch.

“No, Terry Jones.  Of course, Terry Boot!”

Harry rubbed the side of his face.  “Well, he’s got brown hair, and I guess he’s fine in the field?”

“Fine, Potter?  Do you mean attractive?”

“Erm, not exactly. I meant, he’s an okay Auror.  I guess he’s quasi-attractive? If you’re into that?”

“Sexy man with dark brown hair and muscles for days?  Yes, Potter, I’m into that.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” Harry blushed.  “I much prefer blond.”

“Blonde women have certainly never held my fancy.  Any woman for that matter.” Draco hesitated for a moment and then asked, “You’re not gay, are you?”

“Well, not exactly, Draco.  You see, I’m -”

“Again with the first name basis?” Draco spat.

“I figured if we were sharing toys…”

Draco shot daggers in Harry’s direction.

“I’m sorry, did you get the impression you could play with my figurines?  Absolutely not, Potter. Tilly is very protective over her family.”

“I didn’t mean those toys.”  Harry looked perplexed, as his face scrunched up in what appeared to be an attempt to wink.

“Right.  Are you coming down with a cold?  If so, I have some extra Pepper-Up.   That will fix you right as rain.” Draco pulled a vial from his cabinet and tried to push it into Potter’s hands.  

“No, I’m quite alright.”

“Worried I’m going to poison you, hmm?” Draco asked, a sneer painted across his face.

“What? No!  Draco, I’ve been drinking your potions for years.  I trust you.”

Draco’s face fell when he saw the worried look on Potter’s.  Had he really crossed a line? He supposed they had been working together long enough that perhaps their old rivalry were just a thing of the past.  Maybe.

“I was just joking,” he responded dryly, eyeing the man in front of him.  He sighed with relief when he saw Harry relax.

“We’re, erm, about to head out on another mission but I just wanted you to know we’ll be back before Friday.” Harry stated, the twinge of pink returning to his cheeks.

Draco furled his eyebrows.  “Great, Potter, I’m glad you’ll be fine for your weekend.  Now do be off, I need to focus on these proportions.”

“Yes, okay, fine.  See you…then.”

“Sure,” Draco answered with a wave of his hand, sending Harry out of his office in a confused mess.

\--

It wasn’t long before Draco returned to an actual mess in his office.  It turned out Kiwi had gotten a little restless overnight and had upended Draco’s bowl of paperclips, scattering them all over the top of his desk.  He huffed, chastising himself slightly for skimping on his walk the previous day.

The Matador had managed to corral him back between the quill ink pots and was trying to pick up and return the clips to their home.  He patted the Matador on his back in thanks and swooped the stray metal back into the cup.

It was then he saw the spare bit of parchment that was previously hidden under the scattered office supply.  Draco wasted no time in grabbing the loose parchment, reading the letter with intense intention.  

> _Thought of our last letter.  Wanted to make clear what I meant about toys._

He grabbed a quill and scribbled his response. 

> _Very clear.  I’m adept with my hands, but am also trained with a whip, if that’s your thing.  Or a flogger perhaps?_

He sat impatiently, fingers drumming on the desk until the newest letter arrived.       

> _Merlin, yes.  Only if you let me come afterward._

_Fuck_. Draco could already feel his cock fattening up, picturing a taut brunet at his mercy, bound against his headboard, arse red with his ministrations. He sent the next letter over to the department, nervous that his work correspondence was turning into such filth.  

> _If you’re a good boy._

Kink negotiation before lunch?  He thought this might be the most productive morning he’d had.  

He grabbed his jacket and headed toward the local chippy, anxious to share the latest correspondence with his best mate.

\--

“Turns out Terry’s the one who doesn’t mind being tied up,” Draco smirked as he settled into the booth opposite Pansy.  

“Sorry, did you say Harry?”

“Merlin, Pansy, let it go.  Terry. Hard T.”

“I just think that it’s not Terry who wants the D, darling.  I think it’s P. Just look at him. He’s practically undressing you with his eyes.”

“What?”  Draco’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Potter’s here?”

“Two booths to your left, staring like you’re a Treacle Tart.  Now that’s with a hard T.”

Draco thinned his lips into a frown as he glanced over his shoulder.  Merlin, it did look like Potter was starving, and that whatever he was looking at was the most delicious thing on the menu.

“You’re mistaken, Pansy.  It doesn’t happen often, of course, but it does happen.  Look, he’s even sitting with his betrothed. There’s no way he’s - wait, why is he coming over here?”

“Probably to beg you to devour him?”

“Oh do fuck off,” he murmured.  “Wait, don’t really leave, I was just - oh, hello, Potter.”

“Erm, hi,” Harry shot him a nervous smile as he shoved his hands into his pockets.  “Pansy,” he nodded.

“Pansy? Interesting,” she smirked as she took a sip of her drink.

“Can we help you with something?” Draco asked, trying to cover up his curiosity with pure annoyance.  

“I just wanted to see if I could...borrow your vinegar?”

“Did you really come all the way over here to grab a condiment?” Pansy inquired, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, well,” Harry glanced awkwardly to Ginny sitting in their booth.  “Erm, Ginny wanted to know if you wanted to come sit with her. I mean, us.”

Pansy tilted her head and glanced towards their table.  She caught Draco’s hard stare, his mouth screaming a silent ‘ _hell no_ ’.  

“Not today, but do tell Ginny she’s looking beautiful as always.”

“Right.”  He glanced at Draco who was curtly avoiding his stare before he nodded.  “Will do. Guess I’ll...see you later?”

“I suppose so, Potter, considering we work on the same floor.  Now take your vinegar, and leave us be, will you?”

“Draco!” Pansy snapped.

“No, it’s fine.  I apologize for interrupting you,” Harry’s cheeks turned dark and Pansy barely caught the whispered ‘sir’, before he returned to his table.  Ginny leaned in hurriedly across the table as Potter’s whispering continued.

“Why are you so against the letters being from Potter?” Pansy asked pointedly.

“Please, Pansy.  Do I really need to spell it out for you?  A, we almost murdered each other in school.  B, he’s the fucking Boy Who Lived and I, albeit gorgeous, am an ex-Death Eater who almost gave him up to the Dark Lord.  And C, and this is a big one, he’s not gay.”

Pansy folded her arms across her chest.  “Okay, my love, let me spell this out for you then.  A, he practically stalked you throughout sixth year, and he’s looking at you the same way now as he did then.  With an extreme amount of interest. B, and don’t let your ego get any bigger, but you have changed. You’re almost pleasant to be around sometimes.”

Draco scoffed.

“And C, you don’t know as much about Potter as you think you do.”

“I know plenty, Pans.  I’ve known him since I was eleven.”

“Yes, and no one changes from their pre-teens, do they.”

 _Fuck._  She had a point.  

“How about a friendly wager?” Pansy smiled cunningly at Draco as her eyes stayed focused on the redhead a couple of tables over.  “If Boot shows up on Friday, I’ll get you that set of potions knives you’ve been eyeing all winter.”

“Perfect, you owe me a Christmas gift anyway.”

“And _when_ Potter shows up, you owe me those boots we saw last weekend.”

“Please, like you don’t already have enough shoes,”  Draco sneered. “But since I won’t have to buy them for you anyway, you’re on.”

\--

He knew he should spend the day trying to enhance his Dragon Pox so he could rub it in Cockles face.  Or attempting to come up with another remedy that would cure or help an ailment. At least venture to do his fucking job for one day opposed to owling almost-definitely not-safe-for-work messages to the Auror department.  

Instead, he watched the Matador play fetch with the bull using a little ball of parchment while the Senorita and the Santon sat comfortably together, nibbling on a baguette and some cheese.  

Watching the little ball fly through the air reminded him of Quidditch, of some of his happiest days, chasing Potter and the Snitch.  

Draco thought back to his previous night, lying in bed.  He had been hard all day, since he had gotten that letter, since he had seen Potter at lunch.  He had palmed his cock beneath the sheets, pulling and twisting in a constant rhythm as he tried to focus on Boot.  No matter how much he had forced himself to focus on Terry’s hair, it always went darker, the tiny hint of scar always appearing.  

When he had finally came, only green eyes filled his thoughts.  

The day went by slowly.  He kept glancing towards the door, hoping to see another letter fluttering in.  No letter came. He couldn’t help thinking that their messages were too strong, had gone too far for his penpals taste.  He had to keep reminding himself that the Aurors were out on a mission in Denmark, and that it would be difficult for any of them to send out correspondence while they were saving the Wizarding world.

Still, he kept checking for a letter long into the evening, finally bidding his little family goodnight as he headed home.

\--

Thursday morning, Draco arrived perplexed and more than a little relieved to a find a fucking fish tank in his office.  It covered the top corner of his desk, and included a miniature treasure chest and obligatory plastic plant. He peered through the glass curiously until he spotted her.

The little mermaid twisted herself around the plastic coral, her green tail shimmering in the incandescent light as she swam headfirst into the bubbles thrown from the tiny bundle of treasure.  

He snatched the letter off his desk before he could even admire her stark blond hair, waving provocatively in the tank. 

> _Journeyed to Copenhagen and saw her.  She reminded me of you, with her riveting beauty and her stunning grace.  Was hoping she’d make you smile, like you make me smile._

Draco read the letter three times before he could turn his attention back to the mermaid, entranced in her elegance as she swam around the tank.  The old woman seemed equally as captivated, throwing fish over the rim of the mermaid’s tank as if offering her a blessing.  

> _She’s quite mesmerizing.  Tell me, will you be as wet as her on Friday?_

He knew this type of correspondence shouldn’t be sent through the office mail, but he couldn’t help it.  This messaging back and forth had been the most titillating exchange he’d had in months, possibly years. Still, he waited with bated breath for his Auror’s response.

> _Your wish is my command, Sir._

Fuck, if Draco wasn’t the luckiest man in the entire Ministry.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco was the least lucky man in the entire MInistry.

He had shown up at Neptune Oyster House at precisely 7:00pm, wearing his best robes, silver-lined and in a dusty green hue.  His eyes search the near-empty restaurant for one, Terry Boot. Instead, he fixated on one, Harry _bloody_ Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World and current Pain in his Arse.  For some reason, Harry was waving at him like a buffoon from his barstool.

“What are you doing here, Potter?  And what in the hell do you want?”

Harry looked flabbergasted.  “I’m here to meet you? For our, erm...date?”

“What date?” Draco asked incredulously.  

“Merlin’s beard.  The one we’ve been owling about all week.”

“I haven’t been...oh bloody hell.”  He realized in that instant that he owed Pansy a new pair of shoes.  And shit, didn’t that just irk him this side of awful.

“You said you weren’t gay,” Draco muttered dryly, pinching his forehead.

“I’m not!”

“And you’re with the Weaselette,” Draco added with a turn of his wrist, still wondering how in the hell he got himself in this situation.  He hated admitting Parkinson was right, and he wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Who, Ginny?  We haven’t been together in ages.  Plus, she and Pansy have been shagging for weeks.  Didn’t you know?”

Draco sighed sharply.  That little cunt. No wonder she suggested the bet.  He pressed a finger into his temple, hoping to relieve his impending headache.

“Could you just walk me through this one more time?” Draco muttered, eyes closed to avoid green.

“You’re the one that asked me to come here, Draco!  Or is it Malfoy, again? Honestly, you’ve been flip-flopping all week.”

Draco opened his eyes and motioned to the bartender.  “One whiskey over ice, and - you still on scotch, Potter?  And one scotch, neat, please.” He had needed a stiff drink all evening, but he hadn’t wanted to lose his composure when meeting his date.  Apparently his date with scarhead. Now he just wanted to get as sloshed as possible.

He took a heavy sip.  “So why the toys then?”

“Well, you see, when a person likes another person very much - “

“Not the sex toys, you twat, the figurines.”  Fuck, he had wanked to that letter, hadn’t he.  The entire weeks worth of correspondence was coming back to him in a flash, including his conversations with his ex-best friend.  Including when Pansy had said Harry would look good in a collar.

“You told me not to forget about the little people. I didn’t forget about you.” Harry shrugged, taking a sip of his scotch.  Draco bit his lip, watching Potter’s throat shift as he swallowed.

“Besides, I know how you like dancing.”

“And how, pray tell, do you know that?” Draco stared incredulously at Harry, finally meeting his stare.

“I’ve seen you at the clubs is all.”

“I think you have me confused with someone else.  I only go to bent clubs, Potter, and I’ve never see you there.”

Harry smirked from behind his glass, wetting his lips with the smooth drink.  “Been looking for me, Draco?”

“Please.  You wish.”

“I do, actually.  Usually I’m wearing a glamour.  Wouldn’t do for the Prophet to get hold that the Saviour is into men.”

Draco coughed on a small bit of ice.  “Once again, Potter, because you’re obviously losing the plot.  Are you gay?”

“Nope.  But I am bi, and I do like submitting when it’s done...properly.  If you’re up for it,” He added with a solid wink. “Unless you’re scared, Malfoy?”

Draco flushed a full shade of red before he leaned forward in his seat, grabbing a chunk of Harry’s thigh for leverage.  His mouth hovered deliciously close to Potters lips. “Malfoys are never scared,” he grunted, before the world around them twisted into a blur.

\--

“Bloody hell, you can’t just apparate us out of a bar like that.  We didn’t even close our tab!” Harry complained as he righted his footing inside Draco’s flat.  

“I can and I did, Potter.  Now kiss me before I change my mind.”

Harry gaped for only a moment before he pulled Draco forward, wrapping his hands around Draco’s neck.  He kissed Draco hungrily, teeth clashing as they embraced.

Draco spun them around, pressing Harry up against the wall of his tidy living room, responding just as eagerly to their kiss.

As much as Draco had fantasized about kissing Potter, he had never thought it would feel this bloody _good_.  Harry kissed like he was on fire, and Draco couldn’t decide if he was the kindling or the extinguisher.  He decided it didn’t matter as he dragged his hands down to Potter’s waist. Draco grazed his knuckles against Harry’s crotch and revelled in the harsh gasp that escaped his throat.

Draco’s mind went blank, the heat of Harry’s cock prevalent even through his thick denims.  He knew he needed to take control of the situation, lest it get out of hand.

“I’m going to fuck you, Potter, but first I want your cock in my mouth.  Is that alright?” Draco tried to make his voice sound calm, unwavering, as if the idea of having Harry in his mouth wasn’t the best idea he’d had all year.

“Yes, but only if you call me Harry.”

“Still on this first name thing, hmm?  Want to call me Draco again, I suppose?”

“Actually, I was hoping to call you Sir.”

Draco felt a whoosh of air escape his lungs.  He stared hard into Potter’s green eyes, searching for the joke.  He knew he’d written about it in the letters to Ter - shit, Harry, but actually hearing Potter say that word out loud awakened him.  

Harry looked provocative, lips puffy from their vigorous kissing and a dark tint of red on his olive skin.  He looked as much affected by saying the word as Draco had been hearing it.

“Very well then, Harry.” Draco tried to maintain his posh exterior but could feel his defences cracking.  Saying that name reminded Draco of late-night wanks after Quidditch practice, of early morning showers, washing away the unrequited need.  “We can discuss logistics after. Right now, I’d like us to stay focused on our previous plan. You will not come until I tell you. If you need me to stop, just let me know.  Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Merlin, _fuck_.

Draco shoved Harry against the wall once more before kissing him again.  He nudged his tongue into Potter’s mouth, skin tingling when Harry’s tongue reciprocated, driving their kiss into a heated frenzy.  He felt Potter’s hands on his neck, fingers combing through the bottom of his hair and he melted into the touch. He had wanted Potter to touch him just like that for so long, longer than perhaps he even realized himself.

His lithe fingers found their way to Harry’s trousers, tugging on the button and zipper, shoving them down as he broke their kiss.  Draco instantly dropped to his knees, mouthing around the thick outline of Potter’s cock through his pants.

Harry groaned, slamming his fists into the wall as Draco hooked his thumbs into the thin fabric, yanking them down to Potter’s ankles, exposing his thick heft to the cool air.

“Now, now, if you can’t control your hands I might just have to tie you up.  Would you like that, Harry?” The man above him groaned heavily but kept his hands still at his sides.  Draco could really get comfortable with using Potter’s name like that if it continued to elicit that reaction.

“Remember, no release until I say so.  Tell me if you need a break,” Draco murmured, rubbing his cheeks along Potter’s length.  He stuck his tongue out and licked the tip of Harry’s cock, lapping up the beads of precome that had already appeared.  He tightened his thumb and forefinger around the base before Draco widened his lips and took down half of Potter’s length in one swallow.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry gasped, his hips thrusting forward, driving his cock further into Draco’s mouth.

Draco pulled off instantly, standing stern in front of a debauched Potter.  

“What did I say about moving, Harry?  Now I’m going to have to restrain you.” His voice was slightly gravelled from having a cock shoved deep into his throat.

“Yes, please.  Sorry, sir.”

Draco closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe sharply through his nose and out of his mouth.  

“I dunno, Harry, you seem pretty experienced at this.  One might think you wanted me to tie you up the whole time.”  He watched Harry shudder. “Very well then. We’ll use colours as safe words.  Yellow to slow, red to stop. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand.”

Draco nodded, pulling out his wand from his holster. He transfigured a hook into his ceiling and accioed a spare bit of leather from the trunk in his bedroom.

He wrapped Potter’s wrists, looping the leather straps carefully around the hook.  “Feel okay?” he checked. “Not too tight?”

“Perfect. _Sir_.” Harry gave him a little wink, tugging lightly at the restraints, and Draco’s knees went weak.  Luckily he needed to be back on his knees anyway.

“Now be a good boy, Harry,” Draco murmured before he wrapped his lips around Harry’s cock once more.  And _bloody hell_ , he’d give up potions and devote himself to the ridiculous art of seashell divination to hear that sound again.

He hollowed his cheeks, pulling his lips against Harry’s shaft as he worked up and down his length.  He was eventually able to get the entirety of Potter’s cock down to the hilt when he heard a gravelled ‘yellow’.

Draco pulled off instantly, a tiny smirk painting his now-swollen lips.  He gave Potter’s cock a quick lick before he stood, facing him once more.

“Want to fuck you now.” He couldn’t help but notice that Potter’s eyes were blown, the barest rim of green around deep pools of black.

“Yes, please,” Harry huffed, pulling hard against his restraints.

He wanted this to be good for Harry, as good as he knew it would be for himself, and he wasn’t sure Harry would last much longer in this position.  Draco pulled out his wand again, vanishing the leather and hook. “I’d rather see you in my bed if it’s all the same to you.”

He helped Harry fully out his pants and led him down the hallway, secretly wishing he had a D-ring Draco could wrap a finger into.  He tabled that discussion for another time. If there would be another time.

Draco felt like there would be.  He didn’t know how he had missed it; the letters practically dripped with Gryffindor courage, and he hadn’t been able to turn around without Harry there, pink cheeks and tousled hair.  Merlin, did he want to pink those cheeks. Every day from here on out if he could.

“How do you want me?” he heard a strong voice ask from his right, bringing him back to the present.  Back to Potter.

“On your knees.  Hold onto the headboard.”

Harry nodded, climbing onto the four-poster bed, onto his luxuriously fluffy comforter, onto his satin pillows.  He wrapped his hands around the bars of the headboard, and Draco knew he’d keep them there. He trusted Harry to keep them there.  

And he knew Harry trusted him too.  He had leaned on him even. The idea of Harry’s trust was thrilling, something tangible he wanted to hold and care for.  

Draco pulled off his clothes in one swift motion before joining Harry on the bed.  He ran his hands soothingly down his spine and conjured a pot of lubricant from his nightstand.  Harry’s cock hung low, red at the tip and still wet from Draco’s mouth. He wanted to wrap his lips around it again, feel the heavy weight of it on his tongue, feel Harry come deep within his throat.  

Instead, he dipped two fingers into the pot and began to trace around Harry’s furled hole.  Harry bucked against the cold sensation as Draco continued his explorations, teasing his rim.  He crooked his middle finger, delving slowly into Harry for the first time.

He watched carefully as Harry quaked around him, seemingly overwhelmed by the sensation of Draco there, inside of him.  He was panting, hair sweaty and stuck to the rim of his forehead, covering that glorious scar that Draco had always loathed in public.  In private, though, Draco wondered how his skin felt there, if it felt hot, if it felt like absolution.

Draco wanted to see what it looked like when Potter came undone.  He wanted to know what Harry responded to, his breath panting, his back arched, goosebumps covering his skin as Draco plunged deep into him.

Instead, he focused on opening Potter up, feeling the tight walls push against him before they relinquished, allowing him access into Harry’s core.  It was only a matter of moments before he was able to insert a second finger, his mouth placing delicate kisses on Harry’s spine, on his hips, on his arse.

His fingers brushed over Harry’s prostate, once, then once more as he was motivated by the deep guttural moans escaping Potter’s throat.  Draco began to palm his own cock with lubricant, readying himself.

“Beg for it, Harry,” Draco murmured as he continued to twist his fingers.

“Please fuck me, I’m so ready,” Harry blurted, his voice heady with want.  

Draco withdrew his hand before positioning himself on his knees.  He took a moment to admire the man on his bed, so beautiful and vulnerable on his sheets, wanting, waiting.  Yearning to be touched by Draco. Part of it didn’t seem real, as if the past two weeks hadn’t happened and he didn’t have a menagerie on his desk of people Harry had picked out and gifted just for him.  Just to let Draco know he was thinking about him, making them a little family.

He grasped Harry’s hip with one hand, aligning himself with the other as he breached his yearning entrance.  Draco only felt the first moment of resistance before he was able to enter Harry.

“ _Nnngh_ ,” Harry groaned, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought not to move, not to shift his hands from the headboard.  Harry relaxed into Draco’s touch as he continued to thrust long and deep into Potter’s core.

“How does it feel?” Draco asked, wanting so badly to know that Harry was as affected as he was.  

“So, _unng_ , so good.  You feel so good inside of me,” He groaned as Draco thrust in further, rolling his hips in satisfaction.  

Draco thought he could live there, tucked in between Harry’s thighs, listening to Harry’s moans.  He wanted to build a tent, or a castle, or a fucking resort and just stay for the rest of his life.  

“You can go faster if you want?” Harry murmured, casting a glance over his shoulder.  Draco could see how far he was gone, right at the brink of something wonderful.

Draco smirked, batting a hand playfully on Potters arse. “Aren’t you a bossy sub.”

“If I was bossy, I’d ask you to hit. Me. Harder. Sir.”  His voice came out choppy, drawn by the hard onslaught of Draco ramming into him.  Draco smirked. He’d really have to find out Potter’s limits.

He swatted Harry’s arse again, continuing to pummel into his tight hole.  He knew he was teasing his prostate, the way Harry was writhing and groaning beneath him.  Their orgasms were imminent, and Draco wanted to make sure they climaxed together.

“Want to come, Harry?” he asked, shifting angles so his cock rutted directly over his sensitive nerve in a brutal attack.  Harry only grunted, so Draco wrapped his hand quickly over Harry’s cock, tugging once, asking for a full response.

“Yes, sir, please, please, _please_ ,” and Harry begging just the most exquisite thing he had seen.

“Come for me,” Draco said, biting back the last word on his tongue.   _Darling,_ or _sweetheart_ , or _love_.  The terms of endearment he yearned to use.  Yearned to say to Harry. It was too soon for that, too soon for all of this; Draco knew that.  But hadn’t they been hurtling to this moment for years?

Harry arched his back as he thrust into Draco’s hand, white spurts of his orgasm coating his fingers as he came.  Draco could feel him clenching around his cock, drawing out his own orgasm as he followed Harry over the precipice.

They stayed there like that, Harry still grasping onto the headboard on his knees, Draco draped over his back, breathing heavily.  Draco released Harry’s cock as it softened, and rolled over to his side, pulling Harry along with him. He cast a few cleansing charms over them both as they settled in.

He tucked Harry’s head below his chin, wrapping his arms around his waist.  He felt completely sated, wonderfully at ease and perfectly -

Draco’s stomach growled loudly.  He cursed that some of his organs that weren’t as satisfied as his favourite muscle.  

“Hungry?” Potter chuckled.  “Guess we didn’t get that dinner.  I can go whip us up something?”

Draco scoffed, his breath blowing a bit of Harry’s hair in its wake.  “You cook? Doubt it’s any good.” Merlin, would it kill him to be nice every once and awhile?

“I cook about as good as you suck cock,” Harry said as he elbowed backward into Draco’s rib.

“That well, hmm? Let’s see what you can do, shall we?”  He gave Harry’s arse a light tap as he stood up. Harry shimmied slightly as he walked out of the room, presumably to grab his pants and cook up something delicious.

Draco had a moment of fear that their conversation over their most scrumptious meal of rashers and toast would be awkward.  It was exactly the opposite. They spent the time chatting about the Matador and the Senoritas blooming love affair, and how Kiwi probably needed a proper pen.  Harry told him about his past relationships, and how happy Ginny had seemed the past few weeks since she started seeing Pansy.

Draco poured them each a butterbeer as they talked about their limits, and why they chose their safewords.  That drink had lead to shots of firewhiskey, which had somehow lead to Draco rimming a red-arsed Harry against the cabinets.

They had finally tumbled to the cold kitchen floor, Draco’s head resting solidly against Harry’s chest, Harry’s arm wrapped easily around his waist.

“Do you want to stay over?” Draco asked, feeling like a child asking his friend to spend the night.  Maybe they could have a pillow fight and paint each other’s nails too.

“Mmm, I’d like that,” Harry kissed his hair in response.

_Maybe a pillow fight wouldn’t be bad after all._

\--

The pair spent the weekend like that, eating, and talking and _fucking_ , Draco tying Harry up to any hook he could conjure, and Harry begging for it, begging for Draco.  

He woke Monday morning surrounded by Harry.  He felt him, the want of him, his demanding naked need on the small of his back.  He could feel the muscled thigh pressing along his own hip, heel hovering dangerously close to Draco's own building erection.  

"Good morning," Harry stirred, his voice gravely and hot against Draco's ear.  A shiver ran down his spine.

"So insatiable," he teased, as turned and reached for Harry’s arse.

“Mmm, yes, but I really need to go.”  Harry stood and stretched, his naked arse covered with love bites and lash marks.  Draco’s cock stirred, as he itched to add to the collection.

“You need to go too,” Harry said, checking the time.  “Wouldn’t do well for you to miss the Monday meeting. Don’t want Cockle cuckolding you after all.”

The image of Cockle getting all of the praise and rewards while Draco sat in the corner infuriated him.  “Damnit,” he groaned, pulling on his trousers and readying himself for the day.

“Will I see you later?” Harry asked, his voice wavering.

“Hmm, maybe,” Draco smirked.  “We never did get to try those oysters.”

“I don’t think we need any help from aphrodisiacs,” Harry chuckled, eyeing the almost-empty pot of lube thrown haphazardly on the floor.

“No, but I do need to go shopping if you expect to cook again.  Maybe we could get dinner and head to the market?”

Harry smiled.  “Sounds like a plan.”

\--

When Draco arrived at his office, he was shocked to see a fresh new package on his desk.

 

> _I had this made the day after I got your first letter.  I hope it isn’t too forward. Thank you for the wonderful weekend._
> 
> ~~_Love,_ ~~
> 
> _Harry_

Draco couldn’t help but admire the scratched-out word.  He quickly unwrapped the gift, pulling rapidly at the surrounding tissue and discovered a pair of two new little people.

One was a little man, blond hair, holding a wand and a little potions flask.  The other looked just like Harry, dark brown hair with a tiny scar and emerald eyes.  He couldn’t believe it.

He set both of the wizards down on his desk, watching with bated breath as they walked towards each other and held hands.  They kissed softly before they turned and ventured together to meet the rest of Draco and Harry’s little family.

Draco sniffed as he grabbed a quill and the parchment.

 

> _They’re perfect._
> 
> _Thank you._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Draco_

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of [Prompt #663](http://drarrypromptoftheday.tumblr.com/post/158152313294/prompt-663-by-anonymous)
> 
> Thank you to my alpha Kikimay and my betas AhaMarimbas and Quicksilvermaid
> 
> Huge thanks to @hexagon for the beautiful art! Your work is stunning, and I am so honored to include it in this fic!


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